


The Right Medium

by Kayim



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Community: mag7daybook, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:51:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin's still having trouble with his words.  Mary suggests a new way of looking at things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Medium

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenmidalah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmidalah/gifts).



Mary watched with concern as Vin balled up the sheet of paper up in his hand and threw it across the room. "It just don't make sense," he growled, dropping his head to the table.

Mary sighed, as soft as a breeze. "Maybe you're concentrating too hard. Focusing too much on the medium instead of the feel of the words," she suggested, gently placing her hand on Vin's shoulder. He lifted his head to look at her, but didn't speak.

While writing had always been her husband's passion, rather than her own, she had learned to love the power of the written word, to appreciate the strength and passion that could be found in certain combinations of letters. Vin was a poet, deep in his heart, and she wanted him to be able to love the words as much as she did.

"Let me try something else," she said after a minute. The room was warm, and she slipped off her shawl, revealing bare arms. With her right hand, she picked up the ink pen, dipped it into the black liquid, and brought it up against the flesh of her left arm.

The pen scratched her skin, but she took her time writing the letters of her own name. As she finished, she blew softly across the ink, giving it time to dry.

"Give me your hand."

Vin reached out without hesitation and placed his hand in Mary's, his eyes drawn to the dark marks on her pale skin. Mary turned their joined hands over, and nudged at Vin to extend a finger. Using his finger, she traced the letters of her name.

"Mary." It wasn't a question, or a prompt for her attention. His eyes were still focused on the word written on her arm. He traced the letters once more, and Mary's skin pimpled as a shiver worked down her spine. "Mary," he repeated, a smile forming on his face.

She smiled back at him, and lifted the pen in her hand once more. There were so many more words she could teach him, and so much more flesh left to use as a canvas.


End file.
